


Standing Fast

by DrWhom1963



Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bill doesn't get nerfed, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Fic Fix, I just want good things for him okay, Romance, and for Liz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrWhom1963/pseuds/DrWhom1963
Summary: Bill Malloy is dependable, dedicated, and very drunk. He once told a distressed Joe Haskell that he waited to tell the love of his life how he felt, only for her to marry someone else. That was twenty years ago. And maybe tonight he's just drunk enough to try and escape from the shadows of his mistakes.A sort of Alternative Episode 45, but also sort of not.
Relationships: Bill Malloy/Elizabeth Collins Stoddard
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

_Don't make the mistake I did. Don't laugh at what I say. I was young once, too and I felt the same as you. So I put off the offering. And while I was waiting somebody else came along with a lot of smooth talk, and that was the end of Bill Malloy.- 43-  
_

Bill Malloy was not a heavy drinker. Then again, who was compared to the likes of Sam Evans or the prestigious Roger Collins? They were outliers and really should not be counted. But Bill wasn’t fond of drinking anything stronger than Maggie’s black coffee on a regular basis or perhaps a glass of Jameson once every three weeks if the mood struck. If he ordered two, why half the Blue Whale’s hair would turn white. 

But tonight. Tonight, Bill ordered one drink. And another. And another. And yet another. When Bill ordered his fifth within an hour, Bob the bartender nearly dropped the glasses he was drying. 

“Another, Bill? You sure?”

“A-yup, Another one. Worried I’ll stiff ya on the bill?” Malloy chuckled, but it was a bitter, dry sound.

Bob’s face scrunched up a bit, “No, no, of course not but...it’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Bill waved him off, glass in hand. “Nonsense. I can hold my liquor better than most people here, Bob. Another Jameson please.” And he slapped down a few dollars on the bar. 

Bob’s nervous tick didn’t seem to go away as he poured and re-poured. 

Seven shots in and Bill was seeing triple but asked for one shot more. 

“Bill, I—“ Bob stuttered and snatched the glass from Malloy’s hand. “I can’t in good conscience give you another. Why don’t ya go home, Bill? Whatever’s bothering ya, it can’t be anything that that housekeeper of yours soup can’t fix.”

Bill grumbled at the suggestion, hand still in the air holding nothing but the memory of a shot glass. “Home? No. Not yet. Can’t go home,” his words were strung together in a drunken mumble and a few other bar patrons were starting to whisper to themselves. They were all fishermen, all Collins employees, and all under the orders of one Bill Malloy.

And there’s something about watching your dependable level-headed boss drink himself silly that doesn’t sit right in the gut.

One fella at a nearby table spoke up.

“Well, you don’t have t’ go home, Mr Malloy. But y’ can’t stay here,” he insisted, and started rummaging through his pockets. “I’ll call you a cab, okay?”

The man cursed as his fingers found nothing of value and he fumbled, looking down and patting his clothes. He only stopped when the door to the Blue Whale slammed shut. Bill Malloy was gone, and it seemed damned foolish to try and stop him 

Bill could’ve headed towards his car, carefully parked outside the bar and waiting. But even drunk he wasn’t an idiot. He’d walk, thank you. But rather than heading down the road toward his home, where no doubt a warm meal and shower was waiting for him.Bill Malloy turned on his heel and wobbled in the opposite direction.

He was heading to Collinwood. Liquid courage would see him through.

This whole situation with Young Joe Haskell and Carolyn and Burke Devlin and whatever the hell Roger Collins and Sam Evans had to do with it had been eating at him enough to get him onto that bar stool. But it was another member of the Collins family that got him off of it. A much more personal situation that had been slowly but surely eating at him since he was a youngin.

He waited too long back then. And he has waited too long now. Damn it all. He had enough of waiting around.

Life was far too short anyways.

He was going to get it off his chest even if it killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Roger wished there could be one, just **one** , night where something didn’t go bump on the night and wake him. Be it wailing or music or David causing havoc. And more often than not it was someone pounding on his front door for whatever reason or another that really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things but 2 am seemed like the perfect time to bring things up.

And tonight was no different. 

Someone was rapping, tapping at his chambers door with a fury. With many a grumble Roger flung on his dressing gown and marched down the hall and down the main staircase. 

“Yes yes, I hear you! I hear you!!” Roger yelled, putting extra pressure into his stomps like an angry child. But the banging on the door didn’t care if the middle aged man took a page from his young son’s book. It only seemed to grow louder and more frantic.   


At last Roger reached the great oak doors of Collinwood and pulled them open; unsure of what or who he was to find. But even with the great unknown beyond the doors, Bill Malloy leaning against the door frame reeking of gin and seawater wasn’t even in the top 100 of things he expected.

“Malloy? What on earth are you doing here so late?” Roger demanded. But Bill gave no reply and simply stumbled past him and into the foyer. 

“Malloy,” Roger said again, far sterner, slamming the door. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Liz, where’s Liz?” Bill mumbled, steadying himself on the table conveniently in the center of the room. “I’ve got to talk to her!”

Roger stood there utterly bewildered and a bit guarded. But the worry faded quickly as he smelt honey and liquor on Malloy’s breath. “You’re drunk,”

Bill let out a loud singular laugh. “Oh no, Roger, I’m thinking quite clearly. Maybe for the first time in forever. But I have’ta speak with Liz.”

Roger moved quickly, grabbing Bill by the back of his jacket and pulled him to stand up straight. “You listen here Malloy, I am not having you wake my sister over your drunken nonsense!!” 

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Roger.”

Both men turned to see Elizabeth Collins-Stoddard standing at the top of the staircase, hands folded in front of her. Hair that was usually impeccably sprayed in tight ringlets and placed high on her head was falling past her shoulders in loose soft curls. Instead of her usual highly fashionable dresses she was in her nightdress, and she was looking none to pleased. 

“Now lets move into the drawing room before you two wake anyone else up,” Elizabeth’s words were firm, and down the stairs she glided. She didn’t give either man a glance as she walked past them.

Roger quickly followed, but it took Bill a second to fall in line behind the Collins siblings. 

Roger stopped at the doorway, leaning up against the frame and glaring. His harsh gaze ushering the inebriated Bill to move further into the room, closer to Elizabeth who was near the divan. 

“Now, just what is it Bill?” Elizabeth asked, her judgemental gaze hadn’t faltered for a moment.

Bill Malloy opened his mouth but no sounds escaped. He tried a second time and all that came out was a horrid hiccup. His face turned scarlet, warming with embarrassment and booze. 

Roger let out a loud scoff. “Liz, this is foolish!”

Bill shook his head, “No. It’s important. Th’ most important thing.” He wasn’t making a good case for himself, was he? Everything was banging around in his head. Roger and Burke and Joe and Liz and the business and Sam and Liz and _Liz_ and **LIZ** \--

“Bill, I’m waiting…” Elizabeth said firmly, but not unkindly. “ What could be so important?” 

“Mother?” Carolyn had appeared, at least Bill assumed it was Carolyn. She seemed just like a yellow and pink blob in his spotted vision. She was next to Roger, hair slightly messy from sleep but also alert with worry. “What’s going on?” 

“Welcome to the party, kitten,” Roger grinned, though his voice sounded as if he was anything but pleased. “You’re just in time for the show.”

“Bill? Has something happened?” Carolyn asked. 

“No darling, I think Bill just needs to rest,” Liz sighed.

None of the Collinses were prepared for when Bill shouted, quite loudly, “NO!” all of them jolting in place. Neither was Bill really, and he felt himself lean back a bit too far. Liz grabbed onto Bill’s sleeve and thank god she did or else he would’ve crashed hard to the floor. 

“Please,” Elizabeth pleaded. “Just tell me what’s wrong then.”

“There’s something I wanted to tell ya Liz. Been meaning to tell ya for over twenty years. Just never had the chance, till now.” Bill was wavering back and forth, just slightly, like he was on a ship for the first time again not used to the rock of the waves. His hands somehow managed to hold hers, calloused hands touching her soft, delicate ones. 

“Bill, I don’t understand,” Liz’s voice was soft and full of concern. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes of hers shining in the low light. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you ought to lay down. Surely you can tell me what it is tomorrow.”

Bill shook his head. “No, no Liz I have to now,” he was desperate. “Listen to me, _please_.”

Elizabeth looked beyond him, standing in the doorway stood some very bewildered and worried Collins family members. Roger, and Carolyn and now even Vicky joined the spectators, no doubt having awoken by the shouting. “Why don’t we go upstairs then," Liz suggested. "So we can talk in private.” 

Bill nodded, though he was starting to wonder if his ability to walk up stairs would be as good as it usually was. But Liz linked her arm with his, her hand resting on his upper arm. She held onto him with a good grip; a supportive grip. 

The rest of the family was silent as the pair walked past, the tall stature of Bill Malloy seemed folded in on itself. But up the stairs they went and away from sight.

Carolyn’s fingers were fidgeting with her necklace. “Uncle Roger what’s wrong with Bill?”

Roger scoffed a little. “Drunk and bothering your mother with matters of business, no doubt.”

“At this hour?” Vicky questioned. “I didn’t think that Mr Malloy worked like that.”

“Malloy? No, not usually, but stranger things have happened,” Roger said, easily brushing the whole matter off.

Carolyn wasn’t so easily satisfied. “But Uncle Roger, I’ve known Bill Malloy all my life and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk. I think something must be wrong.”

“Well whatever it is, your mother will deal with it and send him on his way.” Roger placed his hands in his pockets, it was a sort of a shrug in his own sort of a way. 

“Well I don’t buy it,” Carolyn huffed, crossing her arms. “Something must be wrong.”

“Well whatever it is, I don’t think we’re going to find out tonight.” Vicky sighed. “We might as well go to bed.”

“I suppose so,” Carolyn huffed, “Come on Vicky, goodnight Uncle Roger.”

Roger gave a nod to the girls and the pair headed upstairs. He knew he should’ve done the same, but since he was up, he might as well have a brandy.


	3. Chapter 3

_"This concerns someone else. I mean Elizabeth Stoddard. I'd sacrifice anything if it would help her." -43-_   


Liz had led Bill into her bedroom, far away from the prying ears and eyes of the rest of the Collins family. It was a room he hadn’t exactly been inside, but had once stood in the doorway of long ago. It was very much an echo of who Elizabeth was; grand, ornate, beautiful. Elegance and refinement from a time that appreciated things like that. 

She has helped him inside, thank god, and moved him over to sit on the bed. The room managed to stop spinning. A little bit. But it wasn’t doing him a lick of good. Bill groaned, but fought the mighty urge to hold his head in his hands or just roll over and let the choir of booze filled angels sing him to his rest. He had a mission. And damnit he’d come this far. 

He tried to stand back up but the room began to twirl. Liz put her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back down again. “Don’t get up too quickly,” she advised, and sat beside him on the edge of her bed. 

Bill grunted, and managed to look up without everything wanting to do a loopty loop. “Thanks...” 

Liz’s face was still etched with worry. Any anger or irritation that might have been there before seemed to vanish. “Bill what’s going on? In all the years I’ve known you I’ve never seen you like this. You weren’t making any bit of sense.” Her eyes grew dark. “Does this have something to do with Roger? Or Sam Evans?”

Bill shook his head, more violently than he would have liked. “No, not this. It’s none of that. It’s got everything t’do with me. With you. Us.” 

**_Us_ ** .

It sounded wrong passing through his drunk lips.  _ Us _ . They surely had that. A partnership that came through years of loyalty and friendship. But it still didn’t feel like he had the right to say it. 

“Us?” Elizabeth’s eyebrow raised slightly, questioning his words before a look of sorrow and acceptance splashed across her features. Her gentle touch was now on his shoulder. “Oh Bill, I know you’re no Ned Calder but you’re a wonderful manager. I'm lucky to have you. If this is about earlier—“

“ **No** ! No no, it’s—“

“--Because if you did want to leave, I understand.” She finished.

Bill could feel his eyes near bulge out of their sockets. Leave?! Leave the fishing fleet? Leave her? No, no never. He’d rather die and even then he’d probably curse the reaper out and stick around. “I wouldn’t dare.” 

Liz breathed a soft sigh, relief perhaps. “Good. Because I need you, Bill. Especially with Burke causing trouble.”

“A-yup,” he sighed. “And I need you too..”

That puzzled look again. “I don't understand. What do you mean?”

Bill Malloy somehow found the will to move his arms without making a fool of himself. His tongue was tied and his posture was shot and his eyes wouldn’t focus but he forced steadiness into his arms, his hands enough to rest them at Liz’s waist, to draw her just that bit closer. Maybe if he held her close enough she’d understand. Maybe he didn’t have to fumble more than he already had.

“Bill?”

No. No that wouldn’t be enough. Nothing he had done in twenty years was enough. 

Bill’s forehead rested against Elizabeth’s, his eyes closed, breathing softly. “I love you, Liz. With all my heart, deep in my bones, with every part of my soul. I wanted t’tell you that years ago. I waited forever and I lost you to Paul Stoddard. And I wasn’t gonna be sore about it, I wasn’t gonna be like Ned and abandon you. I was fit t’go to my grave without you ever knowing.”

Bill opened his eyes, soberness and a bit sorrow slowly dripping into them. “And if you never want t’see me again, I understand. I’ll quit. I’ll run myself out of town. Whatever you want,”

Liz was quiet. Her eyes betrayed nothing, deep and dark. She always had a funny way of staring into the depths of his soul. “Bill, did you get drunk just to tell me that?”

Bill pulled a hand away, sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t plan on ever tellin’ ya. Didn’t plan on gettin’ drunk neither. I’ll go, Liz. I’m sorry t’ wake ya.” Once again, he tried to stand. Only this time he managed to make it to his feet, even if the room kept tilting. And once again, her hands gripped his arms, pulling him back down to the bed. 

“Don’t go. I’m--I’m happy you told me,” There was a pause, a soft inhale, a loss for words. Something else she wanted to say but couldn’t.

Bill smiled, bitterly. Here it would come, the gentle rejection. The promise to pretend it never happened. He would welcome it of course, he expected it. “But ya don’t feel the same, do ya? I figured. It’s alright, Liz,” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” her hands cupped the sides of his face, drawing him close and yet so far. Inches apart. But it was more than that. The gap between them was years and years wide. Decades of missed opportunities and lost chances. 

Well, he was the one who stumbled his way up this damn hill, he might as well keep stumbling through. 

Bill didn’t dare say a word. Rather, he pressed his lips against her, softly, sweetly. Far too gentle for a drunk man, but in the case of Liz Stoddard, logic need not apply. He kissed her as if she was the moon and the stars, as if she was the last gulp of air on earth like she was the very thing that kept the world turning. Because she was. 

Liz only let out a sigh, eyes fluttering shut, relaxing ever so lightly in his hold. Her delicate fingers moving their way through his waves of hair. Like boats on an open sea. 

He pulled away, slowly, to allow them both to breathe. But no sooner did he take a breath did Elizabeth bring him back down for another kiss. This time; she broke it quicker, but didn’t move away. “I love you too.”

The four most beautiful words in the world. And hearing them now made every moment of those twenty years worth it. 

Bill didn’t know exactly how long they spent kissing; could’ve been a few minutes, a few hours, perhaps days. Time got lost somewhere between his drunken haze and Liz’s lips. They ended up laying down, comfortable, at some point he finally took off his coat but hell if he could remember when. Didn’t matter, really. 

“All this trouble to tell me that,” Liz said with a slight smile, fingers tracing little patterns on the fabric of his shirt. “And how on Earth are you going to go into the office tomorrow morning?” 

Bill groaned a little, and held her tighter. “I don’t think I am. First sick day ‘n twenty two years,”

Liz pressed a kiss to his chin. “I’ll call your secretary in the morning and cancel your meetings.” 

_Meetings_. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew there was some sort of meeting he was planning to hold. Probably was important, but it could wait until tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. Or the next. All that mattered was the lovely lady beside him. And perhaps finally trying to sleep to prepare for whatever monster of a hangover awaited him when the sun came up. 

“You know, I do have to wonder now...” 

Bill looked down, sleep finally starting to set over his eyes. “What?”

Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled, and in a lovely half singing sort of way: “What do you do with a drunken sailor?”

Bill Malloy was not a heavy drinker. And would no doubt never drink this way again. But as he and Liz Stoddard half laughed, half sung, and half kissed their way through his beloved sea shanty, early in the morning, he was glad for one night he was.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally have no excuse beyond Bill Malloy is my favourite character and I just want him to LIVE DAMNIT. WHY DOES THE SHOW CARE MORE ABOUT A PEN!? W H Y !? Anyway he's the King of New England and I want him to stay alive longer than Dan Curtis did so..


End file.
